Not Quite a Reprieve
by youngandj
Summary: "It's admirable, you know," the voice said behind him. "To admit the whole course of your life was wrong and decide to change it completely."


Disclaimer: I do not own Aang: The Last Airbender.

A/N: Takes place in season 3, after the events of "The Western Air Temple" episode and possibly before "The Boiling Rock" double episodes. Wherever that seems most appropriate.

* * *

He stared into his rough, callused hands. Sitting by the banks of some distant, unnamed river, he wondered how on earth did his life get to this state of affairs. Those days riding around in a palanquin only to be delivered at the next cluster of buildings a few hundred feet away, where did they go? And where would he go after he's gone?

A soft, flurry movement interrupted his thoughts. A slight shuffle of footsteps, but he didn't shift his gaze. His hands used to belong to that of upper class. Now, they could be mistaken for any peasant off the streets. Or from some unnamed river.

"It's admirable, you know," the voice said behind him. "To admit the whole course of your life was wrong and decide to change it completely."

Often, in times like these, he'd find himself rolling back the memories of his childhood – or whatever it could be called back then. Certainly, he couldn't have been considered a child then or now. He was a crowned prince, and crowned princes never dignified themselves as children. It would have been inappropriate, if not contradictory. Could he have called himself a man, then? _Was_ he a man now?

"It takes courage," the voice mused in a tone that sounded more like it was reserved for another audience.

He turned then, but clearly this too registered incomprehension in his clear expression. "Courage?" he said, wonderingly. The word never meant much to him. His life had consisted of one constant struggle after another, each one worse than the next, continuously laboring after his father's affection. Which amounted to what, exactly? Eternal banishment? It was a tentative mixture of frustration and bafflement that led him astray from his otherwise perfectly docile life. Shouldn't all his suffering constitute some sort of atonement somehow? Just for how long did the statute of limitations hold up anyway?

"I only hope I could be that brave," the voice continued on, his eyes lingering on the dying campfire.

Bravery. That was another foreign concept to him. No, he didn't believe bravery had anything to do with what he had in mind. He gritted his teeth and gripped his hands with such tenacity that his knuckles turned white at the mere thought (which was hard to imagine, when he was a naturally pale person to begin with). He took a deep, calming breath then lifted his head to meet Aang's eyes.

"What is it you want?" he demanded, feigning much more perverse than he felt. Aang replied evenly, "Your father." Zuko touched his scar gently, now faded with age, and remembered something completely different. He called to mind the first actual conversation that almost took place between Aang and him. Incidentally, it wasn't really what he had expected in the slightest from such a famed Avatar.

_Frowning, the airbender said, "You know I have to take his life. Your father, I mean. It's my destiny to do it." Zuko closed his eyes for a moment and found himself saying, "And?"_

"_And I was wondering if, by any chance – well, I mean, considering the circumstances – you know what I have to do, so I'm only assuming it'd be appropriate to ask you if I can... if I can..."_

_His words trailed off. Zuko stood up so suddenly that Aang, startled, retreated a few steps, his hands folded behind his back and his head ducked low as if in abashment. Or shame. Zuko snapped, "Well? Are you going to say it, or am I going to have endure more of this endless stammering?" Aang mumbled something incoherent, and as Zuko began to reach the confines of his already thinly-woven patience, Aang blurted out, "I wanted to know if it's alright with you that I fight your father. And possibly kill him." When Zuko wordlessly stared at him so strongly, Aang thought it would be none the wise to add, "If I'm even capable of such an act," though it didn't do much to ease the tension between them._

"_You're asking for my permission?" Zuko retorted incredulously. "You?" Aang tried to reassure him, "If there was any way around it, any alternative method, I will do my best to make it work–" _

"_No," Zuko snarled, silencing him with a shake of his head. "Kill him, smash his head in, break his neck. Do whatever you like. Just end him." This caused Aang to break the rift of coarseness by staring directly into Zuko's face. He paused, rubbed his hands, and then said finally, "But he's your father. Granted, he's the Firelord, and he's done some pretty horrible things to disrupt the world's balance. But he is still your–" Zuko interrupted sharply, "I know that. Don't you think I know that?" But even then, Aang could tell that Zuko's heart wasn't really in it._

Presently, Zuko shut his eyes tightly, knitting his brows together to form a crease, as he groaned aloud, "Don't tell me this is going to be another riveting episode of babbling with an airbender. I honestly don't think I could take much more of it. Do _all_ of you people talk like that, or is it just you?"

Aang replied defensively, "No, not this time. And for one thing, I wasn't _babbling_. I was just a little flustered, that's all. Your sudden appearance here caught me off-guard. It caught us all off-guard and – what?" Zuko was aware that his smirk was as contemptuous and unflattering as his dour disposition, and people frequently took on dark, sullen expressions after even one minute in his company. Nevertheless, he found it amusing that no one quite understood why he adapted to it rather than to fall back on his trademark scowl. It was an upgrade, after all, though he doubted it could be considered much of an improvement.

"You, flustered? Oh, I do believe the great Avatar is just coming to pieces now that he's witnessed a royal prince in his presence," he said with laughing eyes. He certainly didn't mean it to be unkind, and it was relieving when Aang broke into a smile, though it was heavyhearted and a little weathered down for a boy his age. Still, it was relieving Aang understood, and not the pitying kind of understanding Zuko had grown accustomed to from distant members of his father's court. It was a tacit understanding between a firebender and an airbender, a silent exchange of one grieving blood to another.

The rustling behind him was enough for Zuko to infer that Aang was now sitting next to him. Zuko kneaded his forehead with his fingers, rubbing away at his temples until he could finally be at peace with himself. Even in close proximity, he could only hear the voice from a distance, prodding him, "Where did you find it in you to call forth such divine courage, divine bravery in a difficult time like this? I'm only asking because I genuinely want to know." And by his eager tone, it was clear that he did genuinely wanted to know and for no other reason alone. Zuko leaned forward as he placed his elbows atop his kneecaps and clasped his hands together. He answered indifferently, "It's neither divine courage nor bravery that compels me to do anything. I'm only doing it because I have to, because my uncle would've wanted me to. Anyway, does it really matter?" But it was not to Aang he was asking anymore.

He recalled a moment of sincerity between his parents when he was still a young boy hiding behind the pillars of their bedroom. His father had been praising Azula, glorifying her as the perfect example of a child of royalty, and how all children should behave as she did. His mother thoughtlessly (or was it tactfully?) inquired about their first-born son, to which his father had replied disdainfully, "That boy is as useless as those who can't bend. He'll never amount to anything more than just an incompetent accident. Come to think of it, are you sure he's related to me, Ursa?" Zuko had held his breath, but his mother responded reproachfully, "You shouldn't say such vile things about your son. He may grow up and turn against you one day." His father dismissed the warning with blatant disregard, his booming laugh echoing across the courtyard. Zuko smiled now, if he didn't smile then.

"Shouldn't it?" Aang asked, taking the silence, that and Zuko's deepening creased brows, as an answer. "I'm depriving you of your entire way of life. Shouldn't that mean something?" Zuko didn't even hesitate this time. There was no need to.

"I'm doing it for me, so don't get any funny ideas," he snapped irritably and woul've said more had he not seen Aang's posture tense and rigid, his face tightly set with a clenched jaw. If he had not heard Aang's breathing become haggard and noticed the boy's eyes intensify in contemplation, he would've said that no one could really understand. But Zuko only cast his eyes aside and let Aang's silence be the final word.

Zuko tried not to think about where he would go after he's gone. It was irrelevant anyhow.


End file.
